


Wires

by kiltyr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wires - The Neighbourhood, song inspired fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiltyr/pseuds/kiltyr
Summary: Inspired by the Neighbourhood's single - Wires. Sansa recalls the time she spent with Petyr, and power hungry Petyr faces a difficult decision at the end of the day. The girl, or the game?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a fic, and I'm more nervous than I thought I'd be. I do not own anything in this fic except my mistakes, (please forgive me for them), my sinful brain, and my little OC in there. I was listening to the Wires by the Neighbourhood and it instantly gave me a fic idea for Petyr and Sansa. So here you are.

He’s hunched over his mahogany desk, pieces of paper strewn across it and worn, ink-stained hands are buried in his salt and pepper hair, clutching desperately at his greying temples. She could hear faint, shaky breaths escaping his trembling lips.  _ He’s losing it.  _ She thought. Who would have thought the great Petyr Baelish, master manipulator, would one day meet his demise. She watched as Mr. Know-it-all crumble and fall in front of her eyes; he had his reign, now it was time for his fall. The wires had got the best of him, she mused, bitterly. She approached his silhouette in the dim-lit room with cautious, careful steps. Her light steps padded softly towards her lover, while she thought back to where it all began. 

 

Sansa remembered running to him all those years ago after the grandson of the President ordered her family to be executed for anticipatory treason, unbeknownst to his grandfather. Even now, she wished she had not been apart from her family studying in University when it happened, even now, she wished she had died along with them. Joffrey Baratheon had a network of assassins directly under his command, and had them assassinate her entire family, completely missing the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. 

 

Lost and desperate when she heard the news, she ran helplessly through dull streets but was fortunate enough to have heard of a man from hushed whispers in the air - an expert in avenging for the unjust. More than a little intrigued, she pulled her laptop into her lap one night, searching for more information about this mysterious man. To her disappointment, nothing fruitful came of her research, but his address.  _ 31 Harrenhal Drive.  _

 

She recalled scribbling the address down and left her empty apartment in a haste, not expecting for her to never return. Arriving at a sleek black door, she rang the doorbell, unaware of what lay ahead in her future. A man with salt and pepper hair had answered the door, and she was immediately drawn to his green grey eyes. He had a slight stubble, and Sansa didn’t believe this was the man the whispers had described. She expected a big burly man with a frown affixed on his face, not an average height, decent looking man who was smiling mischievously at her. He gestured for her to enter, and for a moment, she wondered if she had just made a deal with the devil. 

 

She told him of her desire over tea - to avenge her family and kill Joffrey Baratheon. She remembered his raised eyebrow at the ambitious statement coming from a twenty-year old. She remembered the ghost of a smirk on his face when she told him she heard what he was infamous for. She begged to be under his tutelage, to learn how to become an avenger, a manipulator. He whispered his promise of Joffrey’s death in her ear, and at the time, nothing had ever sounded so sweet. In turn, he told her about his own ambitious desires, to become the advisor to the President. When she asked, “ _ why not aim for the throne itself? Become the President?”  _ He chuckled in response and gave her her first lesson of many: “ _ Tell me, Sweetling, which is more dangerous? The dagger brandished by the enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never see?” _ She stared at him, baffled with furrowed brows.  _ “The hidden one?”  _ She guessed. He smiled deviously in response, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes.  _ “There’s a clever girl.”  _

 

And so, the lessons of politics ensued, with Petyr growing more fond and proud of her each day. She had moved in with him for convenience sake, and he agreed, albeit slightly eagerly. He told her of the dirty secrets the corrupt Cabinet members had, and how to maneuver them with it. “ _ People like us, we can’t fight them, we don’t have the army for that, at least not yet. We can only fuck them.”  _ Sansa nodded, drinking his words in.  _ “How do you know everyone’s secrets?” _ He smiled, knowingly, pacing around their shared quarters, staring out the verandah.  _ “I have a spy network. In it, I have spies working for me, listening in for juicy secrets of our targets.”  _ Sansa couldn’t help but think of the possibility of his  _ spies _ turning him into the government. _ “I pay them well for them not to betray me.”  _ He continued on, lighting a cigarette between his lips, not noticing he had answered her silent question.  _ “When you know what a man wants, you know what he is and how to move him.”  _ That was her second lesson. Curious, she couldn’t help but ask,  _ “and what do you want?”  _ There was silence for a time, before he turned around to face her, exhaling the smoke and she recalled his eyes roving over her body before resting on her blue eyes, lips tilted up into a smile that failed to reach his eyes.  _ “Oh, everything, sweetling. Everything there is.” _ He told her to take it all in, the lessons, listen to every word he was speaking. Sansa couldn’t help but muse over the fact how the puppeteer himself, who controlled many men without even laying a finger on them, was being controlled himself by the wires of greed and lust for power. 

 

Over the course of her lessons, she noted the increased intimacy between them, how he loved to trace circles on her thigh when teaching her next lesson, or how he itched to run his fingers through her auburn hair.  _ “We’d have to dye that a different shade. They’d recognise that shade of red anywhere, and kill you immediately. We cannot afford to risk that, can we, sweetling?”  _ He whispered huskily one day, fingering her tresses, lost in the moment.  _ “No, of course not.” _ She replied, equally transfixed by his dark green-grey eyes. That moment ended with their first kiss, the first of many, a chaste kiss between them, neither pulling away until their lungs begged them to. It was no lie, she found him attractive, although he was twice her age. Here was a powerful man, who could bring men to their knees just by the spillage of some secrets, and yet, she could bring  _ him _ to his knees. She reveled in that power she had over him, for once feeling victorious, ever since the death of her family. 

 

A few months after beginning her lessons, his first plan to overthrow the Minister of Finance, Mace Tyrell, was set in motion. Sansa recalled feeling awed to see Petyr, the master manipulator in action. His plan to blackmail the Tyrell, had worked flawlessly, and the results of their plan came to fruition just a few days later. Mace Tyrell’s resignation was made public on the news, and Petyr and Sansa allowed themselves a little celebration, indulging in fine dining and quality champagne. A glass of champagne, turned to two, and that turned to five. She recalled stumbling into Petyr’s bedroom, in a fit of giggles as their arms tangled and intertwined, grasping at their clothes, eagerly stripping the other. Their mouths were hot and fevered against each other, tongues desperate and fighting clumsily for dominance. The lust between them mixed with liquid courage was palpable and both of them didn’t hesitate to add fuel to that fire. 

 

_ “Petyr...I want you.”  _ She had whispered rather wantonly in his ear, nibbling at his earlobe before leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his neck. Both of them were in their underwear, pressed up as close as they could against each other. Her luscious breasts and supple skin against the lean plane of his chest. She felt his covered length, hard and eager at her stomach. Without thinking, she rubbed against it and he groaned at the friction. She saw his eyes slipped shut and jaw tensed, fists clenched tight at his sides. She felt his control slipping away, satisfied that she had him wrapped around her finger.  _ “I want you, Petyr,”  _ she said again,  _ “I need you inside me. Please.”  _

 

He snapped, dark eyes staring intently into hers and he exhaled. He gripped her shoulders and smirked, growling.  _ “Yes. Beg for me, Sweetling.”  _ She gasped as she felt his hand travel down the length of her body, fondling her breasts hidden by her lace-covered bra, before reaching the apex of her thighs, and he sighed in satisfaction. She looked at him to see him licking his lips in anticipation and she let out a soft moan.  _ “You’re so beautiful, my love.”  _

 

Suddenly, that soft moan went octaves higher when she felt him rubbing gently on her clit through her damp underwear, coaxing her on with dirty words.  _ “Oh...you’re dripping, sweetling.”  _ He chuckled darkly.  _ “You like that, sweetling? Tell me.”  _ Sansa whimpered at his sinful tongue and fingers, clutching his shoulders for support before wobbling knees could betray her.  _ “God, yes, mmm...”  _ Petyr sped up his movements then, rubbing tight circles around her engorged pearl. She could feel the oncoming wave, creeping from her toes to the centre where Petyr was worshipping. Her moans became louder, begging for him not to stop. She didn’t care if the neighbours could hear them, all she wanted was the man in front of her at the moment.

 

_ “P-Petyr...I’m going t-to…”  _ His fingers left her body all of a sudden and Sansa wanted to yell at him for it, but the words died in her throat when she felt him shoving her underwear aside and his fingers were immediately replaced with his lips.  _ “Oh!”  _ Sansa moaned, immersed in the sudden heightened pleasures he was giving her. He was kneeled down in front of her and she thought she never liked a sight better than she did now, Petyr on his knees before her. His light stubble scratched against her nether lips, only adding to her ecstacy. Petyr groaned against her lips, the vibrations sending tingles to her core, and her weak knees almost collapsed beneath her. Petyr noticed this, and paused in his ministrations, coaxing a groan of frustration from her, before standing up and pulling her to his large bed, settling her utop the velvet covers. Grateful, she smiled at him, lost in his hungry eyes. Not wasting another moment, Petyr pushed her back till she was lying back against the soft covers. Sansa looked down and couldn’t help but notice the large scar on his body, from navel to collarbone. She opened her mouth when he stopped her,  _ “later, my sweet, for now, let’s forget about the past and focus on the present.”  _ Nodding timidly, she closed her eyes as she felt him approach her on the bed, like how a predator would a delicious prey, leaning slightly over her. She felt his lips on her mouth and she smiled, opening up to him, tasting herself on him.  _ “Taste yourself, baby. Do you like it?”  _ She found that she didn’t like it all that much. She shook her head, frowning. He chuckled against her lips,  _ “Well, I do, so much. And, I want more.”  _

 

Before she could respond, he kissed his way down, licking lavishly at her hardened nipples through the lace, down to her navel, dipping his tongue before lightly nibbling at the skin there, earning him a surprised yelp. Reaching her underwear, he looked up to her and smirked, before grasping the edge of her black lace between his teeth and dragging them down her hips. Sansa threw her head back, feeling the cold air against her wet lips. 

 

_ “Fuck, you look so gorgeous, Sansa. I’m going to enjoy ravishing you tonight,”  _ he whispered huskily between her spread legs. Sansa moaned, peeping at Petyr and his aroused state. Her mouth watered at the thought of his member entering her. 

 

She felt him bend down close to her centre and lick agonisingly slow along the slit. Sansa jerked in response, crying out.  _ “Mmm…” _ He smiled against the length of her slit, inhaling deeply.  _ “Do you want more?”  _ He teased.  _ “Oh Gods yes! Yes...yes.”  _ Complying with her plea, he continued attacking her slit, occasionally sucking on her pearl. She lost control over herself, arching her back and pressing her nether region against his mouth, moaning loudly over the sounds of his mouth working against her.  _ “Yes...yes! Oh my God, Petyr...fuck yes!”  _ She heard masculine grunts and looked down to see him rubbing himself against the sheets, frantically releasing himself of some tension, and Sansa was turned on even more. She felt the familiar coil in her begging for release and she chased it relentlessly, whimpering cries of ecstasy. 

 

That was the first of many climaxes with Petyr Baelish, and it was the most satisfying experience she ever had. 

 

Positively flushed, she gazed down with lust filled eyes, to see him drinking up her juices like a starved man. Licking her clean, he looked up with a satisfied smile in place,  _ “absolutely divine, sweetling.”  _

 

She smiled in response, and watched as he rose up her body, leaving a trail of kisses, wet with the remnants of her orgasm. Reaching her lips, he pecked her once, twice, before licking at the column of her neck burying his head in her shoulder. Her smile faded as the moans left her mouth once more, already feeling renewed wetness pool in her groin. She felt him grind his still clothed member against her groin, and her breath hitched at the delicious sensation. 

 

_ “Sansa...I need you, so much,” _ his mumbles were muffled but Sansa heard him clearly. 

 

_ “What are you waiting for, then?”  _ He picked his head up and looked at her, pouring every inch of his desire for her into her pools of blue. She felt his eager fingers travel to the back of her bra, unclasping it easily with just one hand, and Sansa remembered feeling a tinge of jealously at the thought of the number of women he undressed before her. With a click, her breasts were uncovered to his hungry gaze, full and supple for him. He bent down, taking a pert nipple into his mouth, sucking like a babe while his other hand circled teasingly around the other. Sansa arched, pushing her breasts into his mouth and her groin into his cock. 

 

He released his attention on her breasts with a pop, and panted, looking at her with a determined gaze.  _ “I need you now.” _ Wordlessly, he stood up from the bed and pushed his grey boxers down, stepping out of them. He was bare, in his naked glory before her, and Sansa hungered for his warm body. She reached out for him and without hesitation, he went into her arms. Settling closer to her, both of them moaned at the heat between them, warming them up from the cold November air. 

 

They stared adoringly at each other, mesmerised by the other. Without further words, he guided his member to her waiting heat and pushed, much too slowly for her taste. Sansa growled in frustration, tugging slightly at his greying hair. Giving into her silent demand, he snapped his hips suddenly, burying himself till the hilt. Sansa’s eyes widened at the sudden feeling of fullness and both of them moaned at the warm sensation.

 

_ “Oh, sweetling…”  _ She felt his shuddering breath fanning against her cheek,  _ “so tight...and warm…”  _ Petyr grunted before pulling his hips out a fraction before snapping them back to her groin, quickly settling into a hard rhythm.  _ “Fuck!”  _ Sansa whimpered and started moving in sync to his movements, meeting his thrusts.  _ “Fuck yes, do you know how fucking good you feel, baby?”  _ Sansa moaned at his foul mouth, loving it shamelessly. Maybe it was the glasses of champagne she had earlier, but she couldn’t stop the words from leaving her potty mouth.  _ “Oh yeah? Tell me, Daddy. Tell me how good I feel.”  _ There was a falter in his rhythm and a groan before he sped up his thrusts, lost in her eyes.  _ “You feel absolutely tight around me baby, like you’re milking my cock.”  _ Sansa moaned, throwing her head back in desire and pleasure.  _ “You want to feel Daddy’s come in you sweetling? Feel me spurt into your tight little hole?”  _ Hearing those dirty words almost made her come undone. Sex with the man above her led her straight to the gates of Hell and Sansa didn’t care. She had nothing to lose anyway. Her family was gone, all she had left was the beautiful, dangerous man in front of her. They agreed to rise to power together, and that was what was going to happen, the gruesome twosome tearing corruption apart, no matter the method. 

 

Sansa leant up and kissed him passionately, moaning incoherently into his mouth, nodding her approval. She pulled apart and whispered darkly into his ear,  _ “come in me, Daddy. I want to feel you fill me up.”  _ That was exactly what Petyr did. He completely broke his rhythm and thrust frantically into her, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against each other filled the bedroom as he cried out his release, moaning her name under his breath. Sansa never thought her name could have sounded so sinful coming from anyone’s lips. Sansa’s release mixed with his with the feeling of his climax pulsing inside her. In the back of her mind, she quietly thanked the heavens she had her IUD a few months back. 

 

Leaning up, she littered light kisses against his trembling lips, wiping beads of sweat on his forehead.  _ “Thank you, Petyr.”  _ He looked up to her, still panting slightly, and nodded with a satisfied smile on his face, before pulling out of her and collapsing onto the space next to her. She turned to him and watched the rise and fall of his chest. Without thinking, she traced the old scar across his midsection, wondering what grand story lay behind it.

 

_ “What happened?”  _ She whispered. He grabbed her wandering fingers in his light grasp, bringing them to his lips. She could see it in his jaw, the tension.  _ “All I ever wanted was a job, that could get me into a position high enough to be with the girl I loved.”  _ He looked to her, and she could see it resurfacing again, the greed for power, for everything.  _ “Be raw, Sansa, always.”  _ He told her. 

 

His gaze left hers and he stared at the ceiling, tracing light patterns across the inside of her wrist.  _ “The government...has too many flaws. It needs to be brought down. It doesn’t let people like me, sit upon the top, for the sole reason I was not born into a wealthy, high-born family.”  _ If it were not for the knowledge of his methods of overthrowing the corrupt, Sansa would’ve thought he was a textbook hero. 

 

He turned to her then, admiration clear in his eyes.  _ “You, my love, are the future of this country. Don’t stop fighting against them, but be cautious. Clean hands, Sansa, whatever you do, remember, do it with clean hands.”  _ That was her third lesson. 

 

The next day, Petyr received a call from the President himself, appointing him as the new Finance Minister. She remembered the wide smirk plastered on his face as he told her of the news. She could see the wires pulling him as he breathed, dragging him closer to his greed for power. 

 

She remembered pestering him months after that event of the day they would kill Joffrey Baratheon together. She recalled him shaking his head at her eagerness, telling her patience is a virtue. “ _ The pieces are still not in place, Sweetling,”  _ he said. Sansa huffed in frustration, crossing her arms against her chest.  _ “We’ve overthrown the Minister of Finance, Manpower, and Transportation. You’re the finance minister and now the minister of manpower too. When is the right time, I wonder?” _

 

She heard him beckon her over to where he sat behind his desk, to the papers with photographs of people she’d never seen before.  _ “See here, these are people with the notion of a pure government. They wish to see the current Cabinet torn apart as well. They are our allies, for now.”  _

 

He introduced them as Olenna Tyrell and Margaery Tyrell.  _ “Tyrell? Didn’t you just force Mace Tyrell out of his job? What if they find out and execute you? You’d risk that, just to put the pieces in place?”  _ Petyr smiled at her, a proud smirk adorned his face.  _ “As ever, you’re a quick study, sweetling.”  _ He caressed her cheek, leaning in for a kiss. She responded, although she pulled away before she could get distracted, she still wanted an answer for what sounded like a foolish plan. She couldn’t afford him dying before Joffrey was killed, she needed his help in that department.  _ “Mace Tyrell would keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him. He’s seen what happens to people who disappoint me.”  _ Sansa stared at him, the lingering doubt still evident in her eyes. He sighed.  _ “Many people spend their lives avoiding danger, then they die. Why not head straight into the fire? People often never see the truth up close. They are always too preoccupied with what is ahead.”  _ She knew he had a reason why he was doing what he was doing, and she could see it killed him like diseases. She could hear it in his voice, the lust for power.  _ He can’t be treated,  _ she thought, smiling sadly. Sansa recalled thinking that day, if Petyr Baelish wasn’t the power hungry man he was, she would’ve fallen deeply in love with him. 

 

Luckily, his risky gameplay pulled through, the Tyrells and the Gruesome Twosome quickly becoming well acquainted. She became genuine close friends with Margaery, taking a quick liking to her quirky attitude and her determination to see Joffrey killed as well.  _ “I had a bad past with him. My grandmother and I planned for me to marry him, in order for me to become the wife of the future president. But, that plan quickly turned sour, for he abused me repeatedly, in bed and in front of others.”  _ Sansa frowned, feeling her hate for the spoiled brat grow rapidly.  _ “I need to see him die, too,”  _ she told Margaery, smiling. 

 

_ “What if they completely betray us and turn me in? Telling Joffrey where I am,”  _ she asked Petyr breathlessly one night, after an enthusiastic round of sex. He turned to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his head into her dark hair, inhaling.  _ “They are only interested in one thing, sweetling. That is, to see him killed. Turning you in does not benefit them in any way. If anything, they need as much help as they can get in killing Joffrey.”  _ She nodded, satisfied with the reply and turned into his warm embrace, drowning in his kisses. She remembered almost spilling the words - ‘I love you’ to him that night, during their love making. But no, she restrained, she still hadn’t killed Joffrey, there was no use getting distracted. 

 

Finally, three months later, Petyr finally deemed they were ready to kill Joffrey.  _ “Everything is set, sweetling. Tonight, we shall bring Joffrey down for good. Avenge your family.”  _ He kissed her on the forehead, leading out the door to meet up with the Tyrells. 

 

The plan was simple. Joffrey was known to be entering the Dancing Dragon pub late in the evening, tipped off by one of Petyr’s many spies, and all Sansa had to do was slip a large dose of Nightshade into his cup.  _ “He’d be dead before seeing his next sunrise, my sweet.” _  She received reassuring glances from Margaery and Olenna, and Sansa took a deep breath, before entering the pub. Petyr had assured her Joffrey wouldn’t recognise her, as another of his ‘spies’ told him Joffrey assumed he had killed all the Starks. Not a person who cares for detail and precision. 

 

His striking blond hair was the first thing she spotted upon entering the busy pub. She smirked at the advantage she had, crowds.  _ “It might be an easy job, after all.”  _  She sauntered over to the bar, ordering herself an apple martini. She looked around, feeling adrenaline pumping through her veins. Risking a glance to the blond haired boy to her, three stools to the right, she saw him downing glasses of what she assumed were scotch on the rocks. She scoffed.  _ Typical spoiled brat. He’s drinking himself into a stupor. He’s making my job so much easier.  _ She almost felt pity for the boy, here he was, having a normal night out with his classy drinks, not a clue in the world he was going to die that night. She looked around the pub, recognising a set of eyes focusing on her.  _ Better put on a good show for the man.  _ Next to him was Olenna, nodding at her but Margaery was nowhere to be seen.  _ Probably because Joffrey might recognise her.  _

 

Sansa felt the nightshade in her coat pocket and fingered it’s cap, wondering the best possible way to slip it into one of his many scotches. Just then, she saw a red haired girl approaching her victim, blushing furiously. Sansa smiled.  _ Here is an opportunity.  _ It was obvious the redhead was dying to introduce herself to him, and Sansa knew just the way to urge her. Downing her martini, she called the girl over. Startled, she walked over, an unsure smile fixated on her pale features. 

 

_ “Is there anything I could help you with?”  _ Her unusually high pitched voice made Sansa wince involuntarily. 

 

_ “I, uhm, couldn’t help but notice you looking at that bloke over there.”  _ Sansa almost wanted to laugh at how the girl’s eyes darted around immediately, avoiding eye contact. 

 

_ “Oh! Oh no, was I that obvious?”  _ The girl worried her bottom lip glancing nervously between Joffrey and her, and Sansa almost felt shame for what she was about to do to her. Almost. 

 

She gave the scared-looking girl a comforting smile, gesturing her to the seat next to her. The girl timidly sat down, doe eyes glued to Sansa.  _ “What’s your name?”  _

 

_ “Sarah, and yours?”  _ Sansa shook her head, ordering another martini and a glass of scotch on the rocks.  _ “Doesn’t matter,”  _ she replied. 

 

When the drinks arrived, Sansa slid the glass of scotch over to her.  _ “Oh! I-I don’t…-”  _ Sansa laughed.  _ “It’s not for you Sarah. It’s for your handsome bloke over there.”  _ She nodded vaguely in Joffrey’s direction. The girl, Sarah, looked at her strangely and Sansa wanted to laugh. The poor girl didn’t even know how to approach a brat like Joffrey. She sighed,  _ “give it to him, he’d appreciate it, trust me. He seems to be enjoying his scotch a little too much.”  _ Sarah giggled, nodding her agreement.  _ “Then, start talking to him, I think, he might take a liking to your striking red hair. You have beautiful features.”  _ Sansa purred, delighted at the blushing girl in front of her.  _ “Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him.”  _ Sarah’s hazel eyes widened considerably and she gulped.  _ “O-okay…” _

 

_ Clean hands, Sansa, whatever you do, clean hands,  _ she remembered Petyr’s words. The girl locked her gaze on Joffrey and started walking away, approaching him. Before she took the first step, Sansa stood abruptly from her stool, bumping lightly into the girl. Swiftly, she emptied the uncapped Essence of Nightshade discreetly into the scotch, taking advantage of Sarah’s startled reaction.  _ “Oh! I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking,”  _ she squeaked. Sansa smiled, shaking her head slightly.  _ “It’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going too. I might’ve had one too many. I meant to head to the loo. Good luck, Sarah.”  _ The girl beamed at Sansa, giggling nervously.

 

When they exited the Dancing Dragons, Olenna nodded her head to both Petyr and her.  _ “Thank you, Sansa. That was well executed.”  _ Sansa smiled at the older woman, delighted she was pleased with her performance. After exchanging pleasantries, they departed on their separate ways. On the way back to their apartment in his car, Petyr reached for her hand, clasping tightly in his.  _ “Well done sweetling, I must say, that was a really discreet way of doing the deed.” _ He said, a ghost of a proud smile on his face.  _ “Well, I did remember what you said about clean hands.”  _ She looked up to see him breaking out into a wide smile, chuckling.  _ “I’m glad.”  _

 

_ “What would become of Olenna Tyrell and her granddaughter now?”  _ She asked him. Petyr mused,  _ “I suppose, they would eventually want to move on to overthrowing the remaining  _ corrupt  _ members of the current Cabinet. Mainly, Cersei Lannister, and Tywin.”  _

 

_ “And what are we going to do about it?”  _

 

He had looked to her at his side, smiling with a twinkle in his eyes,  _ “we watch, and wait, till we can use the situation to our advantage.”  _

 

The news of Joffrey’s death came and went with expected consequences. The girl, Sarah was taken in for questioning and Sansa recalled listening to the news with a grim look on her face. She didn’t want the poor girl to suffer a horrible fate, but Petyr reminded her that in order for her to avenge her family, she had to kill Joffrey, one way or another. Westeros didn’t care for Joffrey, and so the news of his death brought little sorrow to the people of Westeros. Cersei, on the other hand, the mother of her precious boy, was heartbroken beyond measure. She held a grand funeral service in memory of him, which only the Cabinet members, attended. Even Petyr, who said he would rather be at home fucking Sansa in celebration of his death. She had laughed at that, feeling the weight on her shoulders lifted. Joffrey Baratheon was finally dead. His death had brought satisfaction and relief to her, as what she had hoped for. A few days after his death, she considered going back to her old apartment, look for a stable job and a nice young man to start a family with, live out the rest of her days in peace. It was obvious she wouldn’t get that picture with Petyr, he was too invested in his game of politics to bear another liability, a family. 

 

She recalled staring at him at his desk, eyes glued to the papers in front of him, tapping his pen to a familiar beat. Sansa was draped across  _ their _ bed, reading a novel. Petyr told her she had no reason to stay in a separate bedroom since they’ve been fucking each other for months now, and so, she moved into his master bedroom. 

 

_ “Petyr, do you ever think about settling down? Start a family and all?”  _ Sansa closed her book and sat up cross legged, watching him. Petyr stopped the tapping of his pen, dark eyes boring into her bright ones.  _ “Maybe. But I’ve been in this game for far too long, sweetling. I can’t possibly stop now.”  _ He breathed. She nodded, albeit frowning slightly. She knew that was the most of an answer she could ever get out of him. She could see the wires that were holding him getting older, creaking as they pull him deeper into their binding grasp. Sansa said nothing in response, knowing there was no point telling him how she felt about him now.

 

One morning, during breakfast, Petyr called her name and nodded to his flat screen. Sansa looked up at him from her cereal, and followed his eyes. It was the morning news, and they were talking about Sarah. She had been prosecuted and sentenced to death by the order of the President, Tywin Lannister. She recalled feeling Petyr’s eyes on her, watching her reaction to the news. She gave nothing away, only continuing on with breakfast. Inside, she was reeling with guilt and shame. She had killed an innocent girl, all for the purpose of avenging her family. She was turning into a killer, like Petyr, and suddenly, Sansa wasn’t sure if this was how she wanted to live the rest of her life.

 

_ “...Fuck!”  _ Petyr grunted, pounding relentlessly into Sansa as she rode him, meeting his erratic thrusts. She could feel the sweat glistening on their joined bodies mixed with their juices. Tonight he was being unusually rough with her, as if he was releasing a great deal of frustration and tension. She watched as Petyr threw his head back against the bed sheets, and stared at her with lust filled eyes. They were dark, hungry, greedy, for more. Sansa whimpered at his look, and dragged her hand from where it lay clutched on his shoulder, to his limp hand at his side, and brought it to her core, to that painfully erect nub at the centre. Petyr was more than eager to obey her silent command. Smirking at her, he started to rub tight little circles around her clit, just how she liked it, and Sansa cried out as she bucked wildly into him. She could hear Petyr’s dirty words of encouragement spilling out, and Sansa returned some of her own, much to his delight. She recalled Petyr’s look of bewilderment on his face, staring at her lush body bouncing atop his. She remembered his compliment,  _ “you are absolutely gorgeous, my love. Stay with me, be with me forever.” _ he had huffed out in between groans. Until now, Sansa wasn’t sure he meant what he said. Nevertheless, she chocked it up to words made in the heat of passion. 

 

The spike in pleasure she felt when he had directly rubbed on her clit thrown her into the threshold of pleasure, riding waves after waves of orgasm. She remembered slipping the words 

_ ‘I love you’  _ carelessly, and all of a sudden she stiffened, looking down at him with worry in her eyes. She expected him to turn frigid in her arms, and turn away, but instead he groaned and thrusted with reckless abandon into her, chasing his finish. She felt him spill deep inside her, still confused by his reaction to her words. She was about to say something, but felt him tug her down to his chest, and she relented, curling into her lover and listening to his rapid heartbeat slowing down, dozing off to the rhythm. 

 

It was dark when she had awoken, alone in the sheets. Casting a quick look to the bedside clock told her it was well past midnight, and she wondered where Petyr was. She wandered in the house, and found him lounging out in the verandah, nursing a glass of whiskey with a cigarette between his lips. She padded softly over to him, and slipped her arms around his shoulders from behind, and whispered into his ear,  _ “come back to bed, Petyr. It’s cold without you there.”  _ She felt him chuckle beside her before releasing another puff of smoke.  _ “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. Too many things on my mind…”  _ He trailed off, looking over the city lights in the distance. 

 

Sansa sat down in the empty seat next to him and asked,  _ “was it what I said just now?” _ She remembered Petyr turning to her with a confused look, before realisation dawned on him and he shook his head with a soft smile on his face.  _ “No, sweetling, it’s not that,”  _ he stated. Sansa didn’t know whether to feel relieved that he didn’t feel appalled with the idea that she loved him, or disappointed that he didn’t tell her he loved her too. Shifting in her seat and following his gaze afar, she asked,  _ “so what is it then?”  _ Petyr sighed, and took a sip of his whiskey.  _ “It’s the Tyrells. They found out about Mace Tyrell.”  _

 

_ “What?! How?”  _ She remembered him stubbing his cigarette before standing abruptly and stalked back into the house. She immediately got up and followed him.  _ “I don’t know, but it’s done now, nothing can change that. What matters is, they’ve offered me a proposition.”  _ He turned around to her,  with a grave look in his eyes.  _ “What? What did they say?”  _ She whispered, evident concern and fear lacing her soft voice. 

 

_ “They’ve promised to keep the matter regarding Mace quiet, forgiven, and hidden forever…”  _ he trailed off, running his hands through his hair.  _ “In exchange for…?”  _ She prompted, bracing herself for the worse scenario she could imagine. She remembered his eyes on her, staring intently, with determination. 

 

_ “The death of Tywin Lannister.”  _

 

Sansa was frozen with shock, her mouth agape.  _ “T-the President?”  _ He nodded slowly, eyes still on her. She started pacing the room, mind reeling with the information.  _ “When must you do this by?”  _

 

_ “In three weeks.”  _ He sighed, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.  _ “What?! That soon? It’s impossible! His security is considerably harder to breach than Joffrey’s! And we had to wait for three whole months just to seize the right opportunity!”  _ She flung her arms about as she spoke. 

 

_ “It’s either Tywin’s head or my head, Sansa,”  _ he deadpanned. Sansa whipped her head around, staring at him incredulously.  _ “Yeah, but… it’s impossible Petyr. You know this. You’d be dead before you can get your hands on him by his guards.” _ He merely offered a shrug in response.  _ “I have to try. If not, all this time, all my effort in rising to the top would’ve gone to waste.”  _ Sansa hung her head in disappointment.  _ The game. Of course, in the end, it’s all that mattered to him. The wires are about to snap, he’s losing his mind to the game.  _ Tears were threatening to spill in the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away furiously.  _ “Still intent on being at the top, huh?”  _ She didn’t have to look at him to know his answer.

 

_ “You know it’s a lose-lose situation. You’d be dead anyway.”  _ She couldn’t help but be blunt with him. She loved him dearly and yet, he was willing to sacrifice his life for the sake of the game.  _ “I have to try.”  _ He said, with a steel edge to his voice. It was at that moment Sansa knew she had lost him, lost her love to the game.  _ “Okay.”  _ WIthout looking at him, she stalked to the bedroom, and curled in the bedsheet, crying herself to sleep. That night, she dreamt that Petyr had professed his love to her, completely abandoning his will to the game. 

 

The next few days was worse than she thought. Petyr was entirely invested in finding an opportunity to assassinate the President, rarely making small talk with her. He worked through the long nights and in the day, making calls to his spies in his network, occasionally throwing papers off and banging his desk as he yelled into the phone. Sansa remembered making an effort to put an end to this madness. She had met up with Margaery and offered her another proposal to put off their current one, but to no avail. Margaery had simply shook her head and reminded her of what Petyr did to Mace Tyrell. Sansa knew it was pointless to talk to Margaery’s grandmother, for she was even more of a stubborn woman to deal with, and headed home, helpless. Sansa thought about offering him her help, but she was useless, she had no contacts that could help them. Even so, the thought about killing the President, was too far stretched for her. She wasn’t ready yet. Two weeks passed by with the same routine, Petyr completely ignoring her and focusing on his impending task, and in the end, going to bed with a frustrating day. 

 

It was two days before the deadline and Petyr barely made any progress. Sansa finished her dinner alone and went off looking for Petyr in his study, expecting him to be there as he had been the past two and a half weeks. Sansa opened the door to his study and found his lean figure hunched over his desk and hands clasped in his hair, the perfect picture of a desperate man.  _ My Mr Know-it-all is falling... _ Padding over to him softly, she was brought back to the present. Looking at his form, she sighed as she ran her pale fingers through his soft hair, massaging his scalp. She could hear his deep breaths responding to her touch, calming him down. “Why don’t we just forget about this? Come away with me, we can start anew in Dorne. Forget about the game, Petyr.” She’s desperately hoping for him to say yes, to agree and take her into his arms kissing her with fevered passion like how he used to. 

 

Instead, once again, he shook his head. He looked up at her and Sansa was stunned by the desperation in his eyes. They were devoid of the mirth he used to have, and Sansa’s heart cracked at the sight. With watery eyes, he whispered, “help me kill the President, Sansa.”  _ No...He’s completely lost now, he needs medicine. He needs help.  _ Sansa could feel all words escape her, offering no response.  _ This game...it’s like a disease, it’s killing him.  _ Sansa stared at him as thoughts whirled in her mind.  _ Look at him, he knew the game, he played it, and it’s killing him to know he’s been defeated. All that he’s invested into this game, it’s gone straight to hell.  _

 

Wordlessly, she bent down and kissed him, one last passionate kiss. She felt him respond, feverishly, his tongue begging entrance into her mouth. Eagerly she opened, feeling him for probably, the last time. Both of them fought for dominance over each other, she pouring her heart into the kiss, pleading him to come with her, and him begging her to help him, to pull him out of this mess he simply refused to leave. Breaking apart, she leant her forehead against his, staring into his green grey abyss, sighing in exasperation. Offering one last time, she whispered, “I’ll book a plane to Dorne tomorrow morning, you have until tonight to decide whether you want to come, live, and love, with me, or stay and die, and be king of the underworld.” 

 

She pulled apart reluctantly, smiling fondly at his torn expression on his beautiful features, before turning and heading into the bedroom to pack her stuff, leaving behind Petyr, who stared longingly at her retreating form. Before she could close the bedroom door behind her, his voice stopped her, with the words she had wanted to hear all this time.  _ I love you, so much, Sansa.  _   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was alright :/ Feedback is appreciated!


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